


Into Each Life

by testosterown (AnimusOrigo1)



Series: Stanzas Lain in Parallel [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimusOrigo1/pseuds/testosterown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the rain that has come down upon Charles Grant, his new life after Vault 111 still yet required he held himself together. These stories highlight key struggles and revelations, and those who might shield him from the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Patchwork Umbrellas

            **CHARLES GRANT WAS NOT A STRANGER TO WAR,** in fact, the day the bombs fell near Sanctuary Hills was one he would go to the Veteran’s Affairs meeting to give a half-baked speech on behalf of those that served with him. Though as he hefted his laser rifle, one of the few fixtures of kindness in this life, he felt then the inescapable mire that was the new life.

            As he trudged on, one foot in front of the other through the barren fields of the Commonwealth, he found that the attitude he took towards the strife was different from back when. At least back at the front, in the way back, there was an imminent evanescence to the conflict that gave all the men comfort. There was the locker room banter among everyone that when it was all over, they’d go back home to their wives and settle down. Sure, there was the very tangible, palpable possibility that some men would die and then the imminence of home would escape them, but it seemed now that the word “if” was so much more comforting than he could imagine back then. 

            There was no “if”, in the Commonwealth. There was no “if” in the twenty-third century. Every battle Charles hobbled away from was a day closer to the next battle he’d have to hobble away from. “If” became “when”, and when was for the rest of his life. 

            But at the very least, as one foot mindlessly hit the ground after the other, there was a louder stomp that accompanied it. He looked back to see Paladin Danse with eyes locked, strayed only from the path ahead in moments to evaluate the surroundings. Danse bled soldier from his veins, and it was clear how he compared to Charles’s wandering gaze. 

            “Knight Charles.” Came the voice of Danse, a request for acknowledgement. 

            “What’s up?” He said back, no bother to look anywhere but forward. 

            “It’s getting dark. We will need to find shelter soon. My Geiger’s rattling at the needle, a sure sign of radstorms to come.” 

            “Of course.” Charles said, near irritation present in his tone. Another thing in wars past he didn’t have to fear, the damn near constant radiation that fell over the world like a miasma. But it wasn’t with an attitude like the one he just gave that would see them through, “Y’know…” He began then, voice lifted to show some levity, “You think this is why the Institute went underground? Avoiding this bullshit?” 

            Danse shook his head. “I think they wanted to escape the oversight of everyone, and plunged themselves where no one can see, where no one can enter. Where no justice can be found.” 

            Charles waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure that’s all fine and true now, but I mean before. Y’know, before they probably became evil scientists set on bringing about the second apocalypse. I mean… it makes sense, yeah? There weren’t any bombings underground. Once you get resources set up, you can live a much healthier life under the ground. Away from… well, everything.” 

            “I suppose that makes sense.” Danse admitted, “It seems an insurmountable hill to climb, to become independent of the outside world. I’d have doubted the possibility were it not something the Institute were capable of.”

             Charles shrugged. “If they can make robots that look and act like people, I imagine they can do a lot of shit. Hell, Vault Tec sure… tried. I think.” As he spoke, he ran his hands through the recently kempt growth of thick hair that clung to his face. His red beard was something he prided himself on before, and it was doubly so now that it was harder to take care of.

             “You’re probably right.” But as Danse continued on with Charles, his tone suddenly shifted, from the light undertones of introspection from just before to the now soldierly rigidity Charles was used to, “We’re close to Sanctuary. We should head there for the night and weather what’s upcoming.”

             “Good idea. But I think we’ll rest at the Red Rocket instead. It’s right next to it.” Charles replied.

             Paladin Danse furrowed his brows, “Why there?”

             Charles gave yet another shrug as he chewed the inside of his cheek, eyes once more fluidly wandering about the landscape, “I’unno. Less people. Kinda’ worn out on them for a bit.” And has he had spoken; it was then he saw truly the shape of what remained of trees. Wicked fingers reached up at the sky towards the sunset, clawing out in envy and in vain of what they could enjoy no longer.

             Paladin Danse did not respond to that for a few moments, stomping in silence at each heavily armored foot hit the ground. He mustered then the nerve, and spoke then, “Would it be better if I left you for the night, then?”

             Charles furrowed his brows for a moment, a peculiar concern mounted on his shoulders from he and the Paladin both, it seemed. “Nah. You’re fine.”

             “But aren’t you tired of people?” From Danse.

             A chitter from Charles, eyes set on the red roof of the Rocket as it came overhead on the horizon, one of the few bright colors that pierced the smattering of dull earthy waste. “Most people here, yeah. But you’re not most people.”

             Another dry response from Danse, “You didn’t specify that before.”

             And another counter that brimmed with levity from Charles, “You didn’t ask, buddy.” And as if he wasn’t sure if the tone was enough to communicate the mood, he offered a smarmy smile to accompany his words.

             After that, the world all but vanished at his feet for Charles as the radio shifted from whatever unremarkable song it was playing before to one of those that he found comfort in.

  _“Into each life, some rain must fall._

_But too much is falling, in mine…”_

            There was something about the tone of the song that acknowledged things that lingered within, and the showers that filled him to the brim since he woke up in that damned pod. But in the same way it let him submerge, immerse, it did little to leave him lachrymose and despondent. His head was under the water for moments, sure, but he did not drown. There were too many things to do to just drown.

             But before he knew it, he was on the concrete lot of the coolant station. The sky was sickly, and the thunder sank his stomach as it gave its bark. As they headed inside the building, Charles spoke to himself as much as he did Danse, “You think they ever make umbrellas for these sorta’ storms?”

             Danse gave him a puzzled expression, though he spoke candidly nonetheless, “That would be an effort in vain.”

              _Yeah, you’re tellin’ me._ Charles thought, as his mind fogged as a mire in his mind came to mirror the one outside, a plea for sleep. He would have to let his thoughts drift away once more and start the next day anew towards the next “when”.


	2. Blues in These Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Institute's impression on Charles leaves him more than frayed, and perhaps there are some knots he bore that are better bared.

            **EVEN IN THE EYE OF THE STORM,** he was struggling to keep his feet rooted to the ground. For Charles, the Institute was a haven of comforts he knew from the life before – beyond then, perhaps – and yet he never itched more in places he couldn’t scratch. Yet though the Commonwealth Wasteland was a den of petty and mortal discomforts, it was the Institute that drained him of what felt like his soul. It was a saccharine, perfect world that boasted a delicate gilded chrome of secrecy and contentment. 

            In some twisted turn of events, he was glad to be back in the Commonwealth. 

            Paladin Danse was next to him again, and that at least was enough to immediately unbundle nerves that twisted themselves in the Institute. The Red Rocket coolant station was where they met as a rendezvous point, and it was at the Power Armor station that Danse seemed to itch somewhere deeper than his skin from how he carried himself. 

            “You alright, Paladin Danse?” Charles asked, his own concerns buried at the present moment at the wake of a distraction. 

            “I want to ask a few questions… well, off the record.” Danse said with the hesitation of uncertainty that weakened the foundation of his words, voice bereft the fullness he usually gave. 

            An affectless shrug, “Go ahead.” 

            “I don’t want to violate any personal boundaries you may have, considering your son… but.” He paused, and seemed privy then to abandon the topic as he trailed off, but a moment’s bravery saw he would finish his statement, “You never mentioned whether or not you found your son.” 

            Charles sucked air in through his teeth and moved to the wall, and so he sank until he rested sat and leaned back. “Sit.” Was all that he had said. 

            Paladin Danse’s tone shifted then, a firmness that found life once more in his throat, “Knight, you’re giving an awful–“ But the Paladin was silenced quickly by Charles’s rebuttal.

             “You wanted this off the record? We’re off the record.” He spat, “I’m not Knight Charles and you’re not Paladin Danse. You’re talkin’ to Charlie now, and I’m talkin’ to Danse. Sit next to me, and I’ll bare myself.”

            Danse gave Charles a hard glare, the sort of drill sergeant staredown he’d expect in the way back, but clarity won out and the logic of the statement shaped the words he spoke next, “I suppose if you’re trusting me with this, because I asked, I will trust you with this.” With that, he stomped over in his power armor and sat next to the Knight.

             “Alright…” Charles began, a flask to his lips to drain its contents before he started in earnest, “So. The Institute thinks I’m buddies with them, first off. I’ve got full access to almost everything, and I can go in and out at any time with no hassle. I’m given access no one other than Coursers can have.”

             There was a silence after that, and it was apparent Danse had not the words prepared to address that sort of remote possibility.

             “Crazy, right?” To pierce the silence that Danse could not.

             “How?” Was the only response the Paladin could think of, face vacant any sense of composure. “What does this have to do with my question?”

             “Well, it gets crazier, buddy.” Charlie said with a humorless grin, “You see, I did find my son. He’s in the Institute. He runs the Institute, and he’s a sixty-somethin’ year old man who’s the spittin’ image of me. Every single synth you see’s based off his DNA. I’m related to every single one of those ‘bots.”

             “Charles…” Danse began and stopped in that moment. He was once more without words, before he was the once to break the silence that time, “I don’t know how it must have felt. How it feels now.”

             Another swig from his flask punctuated the end of Danse’s statement, and Charles bothered not to look at Danse as he spoke again, “Really, now. Think it’d be hard to choose between being a traitor to the Brotherhood and accepting that, when it comes down to it, I’m gonna’ have to kill my own son?”

             “I can’t imagine…” Danse began in futility, stopping afterward.

             “Imagine this, then. One morning you wake up in a completely normal life. You have a wife, son, and a world that isn’t broken. Alarms start going off and the news talks about bombs dropping. You rush into a Vault, lowered as you see one of those bombs dropping right the fuck in front of you. You’re stuck lookin’ into the face of a high-yield nuclear blast, hopin’ the elevator gets you down in time. Then you’re hurried into some pod, go to sleep, wake up, see your wife shot, then wake up again. Now not even a month into it, you’re robbed sixty years with your son, and then… yeah. You know the rest.”

             Danse offered only a grim, solemn expression for a few moments. He let the silence simmer and settle and soon it was he extended an armored hand to rest on Charles’s shoulder. “It would be an insult to try and put myself in your shoes, Charles.”

             “Charlie.”

             “Charlie.” Danse repeated. “I just don’t have the experiences you had, and to say I fully understand would not be honest of me. I sympathize greatly, and I want to do everything in my power to ease this burden, but…” And with a shake of the head, the resolve in his voice returned, “This is a pain that, between us both, only you would know so well. I hope it’s that’s not enough for me not to be able help bear this.”

             With another swig of his flask, Charles offered a placid smile, insides warm from his Paladin’s words and the whiskey he nursed for comfort, “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that, Danse. It’s been a long month, and the fact you’ve been at my back for most of it’s been what’s… well. Kept me goin’, y’know?”

             Danse gave Charles another pat on the shoulder, “It’s what the Brotherhood is for.”

             “Yeah, yeah. But the Brotherhood didn’t ask you to hear me whine. You did that because you’re a swell fuckin’ guy.” Charles said, with another sip of his liquor. “So. We’re still off the record, yeah?”

             “Of course, Charles–… Charlie.” Danse replied.

             It was with a wry grin and a wink that Charles started his response with, “Nice. But yeah. I don’t wanna’ talk about me anymore. I wanna’ talk about you. Why do you never leave the armor? Like, ever.” It was with another swig that the smile beneath the beard became more lax, “Even now.”

             Danse gave another stare, one of difficult answers the pressed against his lips as he prepared his answer, “Because… I. I feel like I can take on the world in it. No matter what, I’m always prepared. I show the spirit and power of the Brotherhood with each glance given to me.”

             Charles gave an idle shrug. “Don’t see anyone in this shop to impress other than me, and… trust me when I say that the things that impress me about you lie past all that metal.”

             Danse’s expression would be inscrutable, were it not Charles or anyone that knew Danse well enough. The manner in which his brows shifted so slightly, the way his lips drew to a straight line, Danse was rendered speechless once more by a gentle reverie that belied a storm of thought inside. “Thank you, Charlie.”

             “So why the armor? Right now.”

             “I…” Danse stammered. “I don’t know.” A surprisingly quick response, quicker than the others at least, and it came with a gentle redness that rushed to his cheeks. “It’s safe. It’s me and the world, and my power armor… it’s like another person at my back with all the times it’s saved me. It’s like the Brotherhood’s standing by me. It’s like–, you… are…” He trailed off.

             “Still off the record, yeah?” Charles repeated.

             “Of course.” Danse assured.

             “So if what you did for Scribe Haylen wasn’t exclusive to her…” He said, brimming with a coy confidence to push the implications even past the armor Danse bore.

             “The… the holding?” Danse stammered.

             “And maybe a kiss on the cheek, depends on how well it goes.”

             Danse gave Charlie another stare. With a deep breath, Danse abandoned his apprehension and let the hand on Charles’s shoulder slide, and it soon crept to let his arm wrap around his opposite shoulder. The Knight – his charge – responded by crawling onto the Paladin’s lap. The other arm enveloped Charles and he felt then the protection Danse felt.

             It was this close to Charlie that Paladin Danse could hear his Pip-Boy’s radio. It wasn’t tuned to Diamond City’s station, no, he could tell when that was on. His movements were jauntier, a spring in his step more apparent. Though sometimes it took not the subtle attention to detail, there were moments that Charles would sing along with his favorite songs.

             But now, it was now turned to the Classical Station. What played were the softer piano melodies, and it was in those moments he had never seen Charles’s eyes less strained. In these moments, perhaps, things were better for Charles than ever after he stepped from the Vault.

             But that was Danse’s assumption, and it was a hopeful one.

 


	3. Another Shower Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps nothing would truly see its worth in the world unless tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was a bit slower, but the first draft corrupted and I had a party to go to so... well. It's here now!

**IT WAS ALL BULLSHIT,** all of it, and it took everything Charles would have not to combust. Though, any who would see the inside of his house would say that he failed in that regard, with the way he tore into the room and left everything not bolted down strewn about in his rash rage. This was the house, Charles thought, which he and Danse would be able to go where not even the Brotherhood would come between them.

Of course, he was wrong. It wasn’t often that supposes and thoughts and assumptions got Charles anywhere closer to breathing room in the Commonwealth Wasteland, and it was once again the case. The Brotherhood of Steel would see him loose the contents of Paladin Danse’s head upon the floor he stood upon, after everything he had done. The most important man in Charles’s life was a synth, and he understood fully then the question the Railroad would ask him.

_Would you risk your life for your fellow man, even if they were a synth?”_

_Yes. I would, again and again._

The Brotherhood could be damned for all Charles cared at the moment, that after he’d been told he’d have to kill his son that he had to betray everyone he loved. But he didn’t want to hear himself think that, no, he’d just keep repeating it until he went mad. Instead he just trashed a chair, and soon the desk, all cacophony to drown out his own words. 

But all the noise that filled his head like static parted in twain and left space for the knock on the door, and soon the presumptuous entrance that came without answer. “Hey.” Came a shrill voice, who Charles saw to be Piper Wright, “Hey! Blue! Charlie!” She shouted, aghast at the commotion and the state of the house. “You know, word around was a Super Mutant raid was happening somewhere in the city. And, y’know, I’m starting to believe them?”

Charles turned and gave Piper a dangerous warning of a glare as he waded through the sea of wreckage to stare her down.

“What’s up, big guy?” She started, to break the silence, “I’ve never actually seen you, y’know, actually angry.”

He decided to give her the acknowledgement, a simple command to let her know she was heeded and that he accepted her offer to speak further, “Sit.”

“Let me just salvage a chair from the aftermath and we’ll be good to go.” She said with a wink, surprised inside to be the first to embrace levity.

Soon enough, the two had their chairs and they sat opposite another. Piper crossed her legs, her lax demeanor nearly and insult to Charles and his situation would she had known what was at stake for him. “Let’s hear it, Blue.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel’s asked too much of me.” Charles started.

“Yikes, the Brotherhood. At least we found the first problem.” From Piper.

Charles gave her the stare from before once more, but mostly elected to ignore the way she stomped all over the boundaries of civility Charles had left. “They want me to kill Paladin Danse. That data I got from the Institute… it says he’s a synth. One of their scribes told him and he ran off. I have to find him and execute him. I don’t think he even knew.”

The way Piper carried herself changed entirely. Her legs uncrossed, her face was bereft the smoldering eyes of cockiness and she seemed to lean forward. “You’re not going to actually do it, are you…?”

“Fuck, no.” He spat. “Don’t you hate the Institute, anyhow?”

“I do.” She started, “But Danse…? He’s about as Institute as Nicky Valentine. The guy’s the biggest Brotherhood cheerleader I’ve ever met. You can’t program the kind of stuff Danse has done for it.”

“That’s not all, either. I’ve been to the Institute. My son? The one I had everyone searching up and down for? They got him, and he’s the goddamn leader of it all. He’ll be the next one I’ll be told to kill." 

Piper’s face froze then, a conflicted storm of remorse and indecision that left her anxious with moments past and future, and so she chose not to let that thread continue any further, “So… so you’re going to try to find Danse, then?"

Charles sized Piper up then, her pointed topic change noted with how he raised his eyebrows for a moment. “Yeah. I’m giving him a chance. He’s worth saving, so… I guess I gotta’. I’m not sure what Danse is goin’ through right now, and… I’unno. It’d make me a monster to ignore him and what he might be feelin’, no matter the outcome of what’d occur when I see him.”

Piper blinked slowly and rose from her seat. “Then we have no time to waste. I’ve got your back, Blue. The Institute won’t make anyone else suffer from its overreaching if I can do something about it.” She held out a hand. “We square?”

Charles took her hand and rose as well, the difference in heights fully apparent to both with the action. “We’re square, newsgirl. Had you figured wrong until now. I thought you were just a loudmouth busybody who didn’t know how to control their tongue. I’m glad you got your convictions sorted out, and I’m glad you act on them. I’m stocking up on supplies before I go. You still got that combat rifle I gave you?”

Piper nodded. “Still got the ammo, too.”

Charles gave a hint of a grin before he set off towards the door. “Good. I’ll meet you at the city gates."

Before he could leave in earnest, Piper spoke once more. “Hey, Blue!” She paused as he looked back, a genuine smile on her face, “I’m proud of you.”

Charles burst into a rough chuckle as he opened the door. “Yeah, yeah, newsgirl. Thanks.”

 

 **THE NOISE CAME BACK ONCE AGAIN,** louder than ever, predictably. As Charles stared at the door, he supposed that the Listening Post would probably the least aptly named place for that to happen in. He just wasn’t prepared to pull the trigger if he had to, and it all seemed folly that any other outcome would occur.

But before his feet could further find root in the ground, a hand met with his back and pushed him from his bindings. “We didn’t come all this was to turn back. We’ll save him, Blue, even if it’s from himself.” From Piper.

“Thanks, newsgirl…” He muttered idly before he opened the door and found nothing immediate in the room. Though on the opposite end was an elevator, and so Charles walked to it.

He hesitated, but he pressed the call button and found that there was no turning back. Danse probably heard the elevator being summoned, and it was plainly clear he had been found. The two stepped in as the door opened, and so he let it sink back down with them inside. He found it fitting, then, that he would plunge towards the depths if he were going to truly meet hell. The door opened and he saw Danse staring at nothing in particular on the other side of a window at the opposite end of the room.

Charles walked to the doorway and made his way through the winding corridor to enter the room he saw Danse in. Mournful did he look, eyes downcast a moment after meeting with Charles. “I had a feeling it would be you they would send. Elder Maxson never liked doing the dirty work. It certainly says something you took Piper with you, someone so against the Institute…” His words were heavy, and the weight of them carried what seemed like both men closer towards something neither wanted to explore.

But it was Piper that was the first to speak up, nearly another insult to Charles were it he didn’t trust her like he did at that moment, “You’re right. I am against the Institute. It’s all the reason why I’m not against you, Danse.”

Charles then mustered the air in his lungs and spoke out before the former Paladin could reply, “The Institute doesn’t like escaped synths. If you’re here, and… you’re not there, there’s no way that–…”

“That my death is justified?” Danse said as he took advantage of Charles trailing off, “I understand that we’re close friends, but… Maxson’s ordered you to execute me, and I’ll be damned if you stand in my way. I’m a synth, a symbol of everything the Brotherhood stands against. 

Charles tightened his jaw, “Did you know, then?”

Danse shook his head, “I… I didn’t know until Quinlan decoded the data. If it weren’t for Haylen, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Charles barked out then, “Then why the fuck did you run?! If you… if you didn’t want this, why bring yourself here?”

Danse took a step back, “I don’t know. I’m a soldier, and I suppose my self-preservation instincts kicked in. I needed to regroup and assess the situation. By the time I got here, I realized I just made everything worse. For the both of us, too.”

“That!” Charles barked out again, “That right there. That’s some human shit you just said there. That empathy? They can’t program that into you.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I meant it, but I have to face the consequences of my identity, Charles.” Danse said.

“Charlie.”

But for once, Danse chose not to even acknowledge that rather than deny him or comply.

Charles responded by taking a step closer. “I’m not killing you. I refuse. You’re worth more than some martyr. You’re worth more than some posthumous symbol to push people towards a nebulous ideal. The Brotherhood has already told me that I have to put a gun to my son’s head. I’m not losing you. I can’t.” It was clear he was crumbling, words slowly drained of their fullness of tone with each breath that passed.

Danse shook his head. “I can’t let you–…” But before another excuse came, Charles stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Danse’s collar.

“You fucking _listen here_ you–.”

But before Charles would inevitably make the situation worse, he felt himself being pulled back by a strap of his combat armor. He looked back and saw Piper, stone-faced and stalwart under their duress. “Danse. Do you have any, like, _any_ comprehension of the effects of your actions? Don’t you see the effects your death will have? You ever seen big Blue like this? You think it’ll be better after your death?” In a way, Charles was glad Piper was flat and blunt with her tongue, it was an earnestness that shaped itself from her words.

Danse paused. Rather than the instinct to shrink away that only found him so very recently in his life, he stepped forward with regret to shape his expression. “I’m so sorry, Charles. I–. I was so blind. I thought about anyone, anything, but you in this…”

Charlie let go and stepped back. He took to the wall and sat down and let his back rest against it. “Sit.” Was all he said.

Danse complied, and Piper chose to do so as well.

“So what’s our play here, then?” Charlie mused aloud, a gaze that lingered towards no one in particular at the moment.

“I leave. I head toward the border of the Commonwealth, and I can put this behind me.” He produces something from his pocket and places it next to Charles. “Give this to Maxson. Their hunt will end, and no one has to die.”

“I guess this is where we get the hell out of here?” Charlie asked.

“You know it, Charlie.” Danse said back. Neither could help but smile, even if the weight of never seeing each other again weighed upon the corners of their lips.

It wasn’t soon after that Danse left that Charles decided to follow, with Piper to trail after. But as he saw the outside world once more, he came upon the improbable standoff between he and Elder Maxson.

“Why is Danse still alive, Knight?” Boomed the Elder, a fiery stare born of incredulousness and rage, “What has it told you to convince you to betray us?”

Charles grit his teeth, and held a hand up to Piper to stand down. Charles knew that this wasn’t her fight to enter, and she would only face undue scrutiny with every word she’d say. “Not an it, Elder. He. Danse didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I suspected you would have trouble carrying out your orders, so I suppose it’s fortunate I acted upon my suspicions. Danse is not a ‘he’, it is a machine. It is an automaton created by the Institute. It wasn’t born from the womb of a loving mother. It was grown in the cold confines of a laboratory.” He said with cold in his tone, callous even in his passion as he continued, “Flesh is flesh. Machine is machine. The two were never meant to intertwine. That thing is the embodiment of–. 

But in a bold move that Charles never expected, Danse interrupted his Elder and spoke fully in tone, “How could you say that about me? All the blood I’ve spilled in the name of the Brotherhood. How can you keep going on like that after everything I’ve done.”

“Look around you Danse.” He began, gesturing with his hands to the barren Commonwealth, “Look at the scorched earth and bone that litters the Wasteland–…”

At that, Charles held his ground, “Are you actually about to do what I think you’re going to do, Elder? I know what the fuck an atomic bomb looks like, I saw the first ones dropped as I was lowered into the Vault in 2077.”

Maxson gave nothing short of a shout with his retort, “Then you know the dangers of the abuse of technology. The boundaries we crossed when we decided to play God. Don’t you feel it in your bones that you’re causing the second apocalypse in our recent history? All for the sake of this–… thing?”

Danse felt the need to answer then, “When I saw my fellow Brotherhood soldiers fall at my feet, I felt sorrow. When I took down an enemy of the Brotherhood, I felt pride. And… and when I heard you speak aboard the Prydwen… I felt pride.” He looked to Charles then, “It’s okay, Charlie. You taught me not to be ashamed of my newfound identity. Whatever you decide to do, I’m going to my grave with no regrets.”

“Touching. Knight, execute him or I will.” Maxson stated plainly.

Charles stepped forward and shook his head. “You know, you wouldn’t have shit on the Institute were it not for me. I’ve done plenty and will do everything more that I can to help you take down the Institute. You owe me this much, Elder. I need you to listen to me.”

Maxson gave the Knight a hard stare, and after a moment, he spoke, “Speak your piece.”

“Whether Danse is truly organic or not, he’s given damn near everything to the Brotherhood of Steel.” He stepped to Danse then and clutched his shoulder. “His worth is beyond that of any symbol, a man who has saved the lives of countless Brotherhood soldiers. It’s damn near past time someone else did the same for him as well. I’m standing for the man that stood for the Brotherhood amidst impossible odds. Will you, Elder? 

Elder Maxson gave Charles a warning stare as his jaw set, the lack of his immediacy in any actions significant and surprising enough already. After a few more tense seconds, he spoke, “You are a stubborn man, and so we’ve reached an impasse. That only leaves us with only one viable solution.” He looked to Danse. “As far as I’m concerned, you are dead. You were pursued and slain by this Brotherhood Knight and your remains were incinerated. From this day forward, you are forbidden to set foot on the Prydwyn, or speak to anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel. Should you choose to ignore me, know then you will be fired upon immediately.” His stare lightened none as his words became emphasized, “Do we. Understand each other?”

“I do.” Was what Danse said. “Thank you for believing in me, Arthur.”

“Don’t mistake my mercy for acceptance. The only reason you’re alive is because of Charles.” Maxson spat back. “I’m returning to the Prydwyn, Knight. Say your goodbyes and report back to me. There is much still to be done in regards to the Institute.”

Maxson turned his back, finally, and stomped off towards the vertibird that carried him to the Listening Post. As he boarded, it took flight then and flew towards the horizon.

“It took a hell of a lot of guts to stand up to Maxson like that.” Danse said, a smile brightened by adrenaline and relief present that brightened his usually stony features.

“I’ll do that and a lot more again and again, Danse.” Charles said back as he stepped towards him slowly.

From Piper, “That was a standoff I could only dream to write about… but I think it would conflict with our goals if I made this public, y’know?”

Charlie rubbed a hand down his face in exhaustion and heaved out a sigh, “So. The fuck, now?”

Danse stepped forward as well, “Go report to Maxson. I’m going to be making this bunker a lot more livable. I can’t have you wandering this Wasteland without me. I’ve got your back, Charlie.”

Charles gave the first genuine, whole-hearted, unabated smile in what seemed like a long time, “Thanks, Danse, and thank you, Piper. I would not be here without either of you.”

There was still too much, far too much Charles needed to do. There were still far too many prices he knew he’d have to pay. But for these moments, he felt then no rain upon his shoulders. His umbrella simply would not see a drop land on him.


	4. Some Can Lose the Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those that stood at disparate sides of the same goal would perhaps do well to listen to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly one day I'll stop teasing you guys but until then here's another chapter that totally isn't the consummation of their love ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. But hey, some important emotional insight.

**THAT PERFECTION WAS UNATTAINABLE WAS NO EXCUSE NOT TO STRIVE FOR IT,** it was one of the things Danse held near and it had kept him on his toes thus far. Though without the Brotherhood to see for the rest of his life and without Charles there with him at the moment, there was nothing that clung to his spine that kept it unbent. He was bare, in nothing but the Brotherhood of Steel armored jumpsuit, and it left him frazzled. He was no longer a Paladin, and he had little in regards to a compass to tell him where perfection was.

            It was enough he had been at his most vulnerable with two people, but now he had to gather himself in the sight of the woman who followed Charles to the bunker. For an inscrutable reason, the news reporter from Diamond City volunteered to stay at the bunker rather than go with Charles. Of course, Charles was not without his suspicions, but she was keen on deflecting them with ease. She said she liked it none aboard the Prydwen, and that she didn’t want to see Maxson’s face after all that he said.

            Perhaps that would be fair. Danse held feelings that made no sense to him either. He longed to see everyone again in the Brotherhood, he wanted desperately immerse himself in the main deck of the ship and the sense of belonging he had. But he would only be disingenuous to himself if he dared tried to think that Maxson was justifiable in his zeal, that Danse was worth nothing more than a reminder. He was glad Charles had been the one to show up, he and Piper both, that they would not see him crumple under his own lachrymose self-pity.

            But as Danse sunk deeper into himself, Piper dragged him from his reverie with her voice, “So, tin can–… wait, shit.” She paused, her palm soon to meet with her forehead in a slap, “Awful phrasing, now. Used to you being in power armor. Let’s start over.” And as Danse started to even figure out where exactly her blundering treaded along his boundaries, she started again, “Lover boy.”

            Danse knew little of how to respond to something so brash and disjointed.

            “You know. I was one of the first people big Blue started dragging along across the Commonwealth.” She started with.

            “That makes sense. Why are you telling me this?” _Why indeed_ , he thought as he spoke. He had little idea of where Piper was trying to lead him in her train of thought, and he would only have to wait until she got to the point.

            “Because. I’ve picked some things up from him that I don’t think you’ve quite… uh… caught on to. Because, you see… uh.” She paused, her normally smoldering stare cooling under what seemed like doubt. “He’s kind of a lost puppy, all’s said and done. Guy can’t handle not having companionship, from what I’ve picked up on.”

            “How do you figure?” Danse asked.

            “Well.” She said with a sigh that seemed to heave forth and expel her doubt, “We went to Sanctuary one day. Pretty early on in our little adventures, I’d say. It was one of the first things we did after we rescued Valentine. He said he needed a good bench to work with for his guns, but... he wanted to go back to his old Vault for a bit. Said he didn’t spend much time in it, and that got me wondering why he ended up revisiting the place at all. I asked to go with him. He gave me one of those cornered animal stares, but he agreed nonetheless.”

            “Why did he go back?” Danse wondered aloud.

             “We wandered a bit. It was like a tomb. It was dead silent, and it was full of old skeletons. Eventually he stopped at some pods. Two were already opened. One was empty, and the other had a woman in it.”

            “Oh my God…” Came Danse, the picture had fully formed then. He had always mentioned his son, but somewhere along the way he must have forgotten that Charles had to have had a wife as well.

            “Yeah. He went to say goodbye to his wife one last time. Said he never had time to do it before. He apologized for having me see him like that.” She said, at that point already had she sat on a desk. “He told me to sit, like he always did when it came time for a heart to heart. Told me all about her. Told me how she kept up his quips and put up with his bullshit. Told me that she’d find their son for her, and promised to live for the both of them." 

            “I…” He stammered. Guilt wrapped around him then, all that he had disregarded when Charles was begging for Danse’s life plainly clear and obvious where it should have been before. “I didn’t realize he missed her that much.”

            “He put both rings on her after that. He said he wasn’t going to drown out here in the Commonwealth, no matter how much rain it threw at him. So far, he’s been spot on with that.”

            After a moment where his eyes clung to the floor, he met the reporter’s eyes once more. “Why are you telling me this?” He asked.

            “’Cause, lover boy. I know how you two look at each other. Secrets don’t stay secrets for long with me, not if I can help it.” She said, legs crossed, as she took out a stick of bubblegum from a pocket of her coat. “If you feel about Charles like how he feels about you, it’ll only do him good if you tell him. Both of you, really, but that’s only sort of the point. He’s about as moved on as a widower can be moved on, and I think it’d be good for him if he didn’t have to mourn anymore.”

            “I can barely come to terms with my own…” He paused, bereft the words to shape how he left into something that could be shown to another. After a moment of thought and silence, he tried again, “All of this.” He gestured all to himself, “I don’t even know how I’ll come to terms with losing everything. My entire identity is gone, and it brings to question my understanding of feelings and how I compare to others.”

            Piper popped the bubblegum in her mouth and shrugged. “I imagine you feel just about as much as you did before. It’s not… well, _quite_ a clean slate. You still have your experiences to look to for guidance. If you want, I can get Nick on the radio and ask him how synth feelings work.” She gave a wry smile then, “Maybe he’s still got a copy of the user manual.”

            Danse gave a blank stare to Piper, and again he was unsure where he stood on those sorts of words that were spoken to him. “Perhaps… I just need to get back to the swing of things. At least, about as much as I can do so with my predicament.”

            “This is an old military base. Maybe you can get locked and loaded, get you feeling like a good old jarhead once more.” She said with another one of her cocky grins.

            Perhaps there was a touch of sense to her words. “If you can get a door open down here, there’s something behind it and I don’t know what it is.”

            Piper canted her head. “Oh, yeah? How’s it locked?”

            “It’s behind lock and key.” Danse replied.

            She grinned. “You’re lucky I’ve been paying attention to big Blue, then. I asked him how he managed to pick every single door he could find. Guy’s got deft fingers, I’ll give him that. I don’t know if I can work his kind of magic… but, hey. Worth a shot, right?”

            Danse could argue none with her logic, and simply accepted her help. “I look forward to seeing your skills at work.”

            “Don’t put that much faith in me, buddy. That almost might be pressure to succeed.” She said with a wink.

            He pointed then to the door. “It’s the one where we had our first standoff here. I cleared out some rubble and found it.” They made their way then to the door, and Piper took out a bobby pin. She knelt down and eyed the mechanism, an inspection that didn’t last overlong before she tried her hand.

            “Yikes. Hiding something big, here. Surprised it’s not hooked up to a terminal, honesty. Still, it’s a good enough lock to be hopeful.” Her jaw set then in a familiar way, like before, when she spoke with her convictions bared on her sleeve. Tiny clicks could be heard, along with groans of frustration as she turned the lock carefully. “Come on…” She coaxes, “Treated you real nice, now you just gotta’…” One last click was heard before she shouted, “Yeah! Alright. Not even doors can keep what they have behind them hidden, now.” She said as she opened the door. 

            “Impressive, Piper. They don’t teach that back at boot camp.” Danse commented. Though his jaw dropped at the sight of what was inside.

            “Holy shit.” Piper said in surprise as well. 

            What lied inside was a full suit of X-01 Power Armor. Though it held a stigma among those in the Wasteland for its notorious origins with the Enclave, Danse felt it was oddly fitting for a pariah such as himself.

            Piper spoke once more as Danse inspected the frame and its pieces from as many angles as possible. “You can be the biggest tin can in the Wasteland if you wanted…”

            Danse chortled at that, a rare sound to come from him that had been already loosed from his elation. “Thank you, Piper. You have no idea how much it means to have something like this again.”

            “Yeah, yeah. It’s a big ole’ security blanket, but I’m glad to help.” She said with a smile without pretense, genuine in its mirth.

            “I’ll make modifications to this immediately. There’s no telling who could have worn this, and power armor needs to fit perfectly upon the wearer to reap the maximum benefits. A bad joint in the knee is as much a death sentence as going out unprotected.”

            “Whatever you say, lover boy.” Piper said, as she turned her back to head back to the desk, “Think about what I said. Y’know, about big Blue.”

            “…Of course.” Danse said, as he busied his hands with his inspection. Perhaps she was right, perhaps she had insight he sorely needed. He did not have to remind himself of before when that last was true, and how recently – and how huge in need he was of it – it was.

            Charles deserved more from him. The level of dedication to both the Brotherhood and Danse ought to have been acknowledged far before this. Perhaps Charles needed something to huddle to other than the sad songs on the radio he clung to.


	5. The Sun Might Shine Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, perhaps, would finally find rest from the storm, at least for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. It happened. It's pretty easy to tell where this goes from the sudden rating change. Haha. Hahaha.

            **IT WAS REMARKABLE THE DIFFERENCE IN FEELINGS HE GOT FROM SEEING THE LISTENING POST,** and he wasted none of the time he had waited out the first time he marched to this doorstep. He twisted the handle and opened the door to find Danse, the man he risked life and livelihood for, in a completely brand new set of power armor. In fact, it was nothing like any other set of armor he had ever seen. Even in the way back, he’d never seen power armor that bulky in his life.

            Regardless, he addressed Danse with a levity that hadn’t graced him in quite some time. “Well, of course you’d take no time to find a new security blanket. How’s this big tin can treating you?” Charles asked, bright orange mustache perked up just so with his smirk.

            Danse offered a curt nod, though it was notable to see what lied upon his lips that came along with it. A smile graced his features that which Charles had seen little of before, and surely it did not linger as long as this one. Such a gesture brightened up rough crags that otherwise made for a dour visage. Charles was little sure of if the smile itself was so infectious on its own, or whether it was the infrequency that inspired such mirth to upturn his lips. “After I made my modifications and fitted it, it’s great. Superb, even.” He said.

            “That’s great to hear, Danse. I thought I’d have to bring you a set myself. How’d you come across a set anyway?” Charles said back, as he ambled to the desk and sat.

            “Piper unlocked a door that had it. Said she learned it from you, in fact.” Danse said back, as he stepped closer to Charles and kept that same smile upon his face. “She left, though. Said the paper needed doing some time soon, and that I was well-suited to watching your back.”

            “You’ve got a good suit to suit yourself with, I know that.” He said, though he felt his tongue was not quite as sharp as he had hoped. He had little rest since he saved Danse’s life, the trip between the Listening Post and the Prydwen somewhat long and arduous. Maxson seemed to care little about Charles’s presence aboard, though it was better than any other alternative to the worthwhile insubordination he showed so easily. Regardless, his wits were without him and awaited some semblance of rest before they would find him again.

            “I’d also like to discuss… a personal matter with you.” Danse said suddenly, a sudden move to set the conversation from before ajar and behind them. “If you’d like, that is.”

            Charles offered his easy smile once more, and walked over towards a wall. He found it collided with his back nicely as he slid downward until the ground met him as he sat. “Sit.” Was all he gave as a response.

            Danse seemed to relieved to hear that, as he clunked along in his power armor and sat as well. “So. I–…” He paused, eyes clung to the floor. “’I’m sorry. I really thought this would be easier to talk about. There’s so much I wanted to say, but I don’t even know where to start.” He said, words that seemed notto fit together the way he wanted. It sounded truly like he had to craft every word as he spoke the last.

            Charles reached up and rested a hand on Danse’s shoulder, only to grow only slightly irritated inwardly as bare fingers made contact with cold metal. Alas, he worked through such feelings to offer genuine words of compassion, “Then I’ll help you work through it. The beginning’s always an alright place to start, don’t you think?”

            “I don’t think anything will help me work through this.” He said, oversized armored hand poised to run down his face. “I’ve spent my whole life, or what I perceive to be my whole life following a plan to shape my own future. Ever since my banishment, I feel lost. I’m empty, and without purpose. For the first time since I signed up for the Brotherhood, I don’t have that plan. I don’t have all the answers. And it scares the hell out of me.”

            Charles gave an idle shrug. “To be honest, I’ve never had the answers either. I’ve barely had enough answers to know what questions I need to ask. I guess I’ve never had the need for them, so it doesn’t bother me so much, but… hey.” He gave Danse a nudge with his elbow, “If you’re fine with that, we can find whatever non-answers that await us. You’ll learn from the best.” With a couple quirks of the brows, he once again tried to win over the unpleasant things in life by trying to tame them with his tongue. There was little the dashing Charles Grant couldn’t sedate with a smile, after all.

            But Charles, it seemed, met with one of those things. “Don’t you understand?” Danse said, as urgent as he was upset, “What you had was tangible. Your wife, your son… you know it was real. I can’t tell where my life truly began between where I am right now. They couldn’t even bother to program a sibling, or anything! I–… why would they give me all this if they were just going to leave such… crucial things out. Why make me to be… this, of all things. I started out as nothing, and I’ve ended up as nothing, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it!” There was a strain to Danse’s voice then, the stream bristled and frayed under the constricted doubt and so sputtered his flow.

            Charles reached up and beckoned to Danse with two fingers without words. Danse stared the man down, jaw set in determination, even if he knew not what he was determined to do.

            “Charles.” He began, voiced backed by a soldier’s fullness while his face set in stone.

            “Charlie.”

            Danse did not reply immediately, but that gave Charles no pause. After all, there were many standoffs that ended about where this was in this exact way. And thankfully, unlike before, this had ended like all the others as Danse gave in. He shifted in his seated position and faced Charles fully, leaning forward to comply with his gesture. Charlie reached then for the nape of Danse’s neck and pulled him closer, though it seemed more chaste than Charles might have done in Danse’s mind. “I was inconsiderate. I apologize for not taking this–… change into account when I said what I did. You’ve got your own experiences and doubts, and regardless of how they match up to mine, I’ll offer what I can to help. Sound good?”

            Danse lost all the rigidity of a Brotherhood soldier at that moment, and closed his eyes. “That…” He stammered. “That sounds wonderful, Charlie.” Was all he could manage for that moment. After a few breaths, words seemed then to come out more steadily than before, “I don’t know if it’s friendship, or if it’s an anomaly in my programming, after all, I’m not really human, but. But whatever it is, I cannot deny that I’ve felt closer to you than anyone else I’ve ever met.”

            Charles quirked a brow. “Friendship, huh?” His lazy smile came back then. “So if I were to say that I’d like maybe… ah, something more than friendship, you’d…?” His voice was husky and low, that sweet baritone that had found its rasp in those moments.

            Danse took in a deep breath, and canted his head. “Are you saying then… that you’re in love with me?” He sounded astounded in his own quiet way, “This doesn’t make any sense. Charlie, after all the Brotherhood had taught you, how could you be in love with… well, a machine?”

            A myriad of things came to Charles then, of all the things he could have said. With his time in the Commonwealth, he found himself somehow more predisposed towards offhanded levity. He found within himself many jokes, a great many things that brought self-satisfactory detachment from situations he felt too immersed in. But rather than any other dismissal, any casual display of jocular apathy, he found instead something he surprised himself with, how the words came to him so new and unprepared yet refined without forethought. “You’re more human than any other person I have ever met, Danse. You’re the sort of human others should strive to be, and nothing else could convince me otherwise.”

            Danse’s face was blank for a few moments, with the pieces of Charles’s statement coming together in small waves of movement on the face that Charles studied so carefully. He watched the doubt wash away with the way his brows furrowed ad unfurrowed, the way he gaped and soon smiled slowly. When next he was able to speak, he did so without the pretense of knowing. “It means the world that you think that of me, Charlie. I mean, I won’t lie to you. You’ll have to be patient with me. Human or not human, these are… entirely new feelings within me that we will have to struggle for me to come to terms with. After all, I’ve never tried anything like this. But if we tackle it together…” He paused then, a hard swallow had before he mustered the words to complete and confirm what was happening, “Perhaps this relationship could last a very long time.”

            There was a heat between them then, one that flushed both men’s faces. How correct it was then, for Charles’s lips to finally meet Danse’s. How right it was that Danse let his head tilt, so that Charles could take more of the man for himself. Red whiskers seemed endless on Charles’s lips, how each of so many seemed to drag along Danse’s own. Though, one thing that was not right, the one thing that broke Charles out of the endless trance of Danse’s skin upon his own was the power armor that yet still clung fast. Charles broke finally the kiss, and stood. “Up.” Was the first of his gentle demands. “Out of the armor, buddy.” He said as Danse stood, “I don’t think there’s anyone else to impress with that thing on.”

            Danse stepped away silently, and hesitated before the frame started to bloom from the back. He stepped out slowly, and the metal figure closed itself up once more.

            “Good.” He said as he let his arms coil around Danse’s waist. “Great, in fact…”

            Charlie’s hands felt heavenly on Danse, fingers that squeezed flesh that was only concealed by a jumpsuit were the catalyst for the quakes and tingling that raced along and within the man. Soon enough he was guided towards the wall that which they sat. Danse’s back rushed to meet it, and Charles’s hips found purchase along Danse’s own, and soon they shared another kiss that Danse would have thought that shouldn’t have been mere minutes ago. But as Charles found himself pressed deeper and deeper against the man, he found reason to pause. “I–… don’t want to be inconsiderate, Danse. I know this is all new to you. If you feel at any point we’re going too fast, you tell me… and not a second after.” The concern in his voice was warmed by want, a tempered thing tempered only for Danse’s sake.

            “I think I’m ready, Charlie. For whatever’s next. Just–… please, don’t stop what you’re doing.” Danse replied, voice grainy and light, far removed from the stiffness and sureness of a Brotherhood soldier. Danse wore his emotions freely for this once, and it was after that which Charles gave the tingly whisker-ridden kiss upon the supple flesh of Danse’s neck that would solidify many more onces in the future.

            Charles slowly started to sink down to his knees, and those rough hands – those that felt the burn of the world and knew the handle of a gun – were taken of Danse and robbed him of the sensation he would long to become complacent in, and soon pieces of combat armor fell to the ground with unceremonious clanks and echoes that punctuated each step of his undressing. Soon after, Danse saw then the layers of clothing that soon peeled away from the wanderer and found the flesh of another man that he had never found himself truly longing for before. It was clear with Charles’s body he had the privilege of being pre-war then, with the sort of figure he had even after all that he had been through in the Commonwealth. Danse always knew Charles to be a wide man, and he knew that there was strength present within his limbs, but it was clear by the gristly padding that belied his strength that he knew well the pleasures of centuries ago so fully. Scars stretched long while some stuck to his body like something that splattered marked him all over his torso, all covered by very liberal dustings of orange hair that sounded like sandpaper when scraped across the jumpsuit that covered Danse still.

            Though before Danse could reciprocate those motions, to bare himself fully for the man that made such things conceivable in his mind, Charlie reached blindly for the zipper that would make short work of what covered him and struck true with his grip. Down did it go and Danse’s clothing parted in twain around him. Danse’s body was cleanlier cut, muscle that made itself plain as it pushed along the skin far more so than the muscle Charles had. But unlike sweet Charlie, Danse’s time to bare extended past where Charles could see the upper body. Down and down did the suit split, until soon he was shimmied out of the orange clothing and was at that moment fully naked. It was not merely after this moment that Charles knew the extent of Danse’s excitement, that much was plainly clear when his hips lingered in their crash prior, and so what pressed against him was palpable against his thigh. Charles mirrored the gesture in the way he could with what he had on, with no sort of bumbling others might have succumbed to were they removing a belt in the heat of such a moment. He was deft and quick, denim jeans so carelessly slid aside as Danse saw then where the trail of hairs on his torso led to.

            But as Danse gawked at the burgeoning eagerness Charles boasted, Charlie let his forehead brush against the other’s with a whispered question that danced along Danse’s lips, “…And you’re good with this, yeah?”

            “Don’t tease anymore, Charlie…” Was what Danse chose to say back. 

            What came next sent jolts and shivers and fire that rippled along Danse’s skin in the sweet juxtaposition that let his mouth become agape with no breath to escape. Such ragged and calloused hands, that rested along Danse’s back when he sought to slouch, finally found home around his desire. It wasn’t so long after that when he felt then were their passions meeting in physical form, and it with that he would stoke their flames in soft movements with his hips. Danse could only press his lips against the dense bush of red whiskers that lied upon Charlie’s face as that gentle rhythm found itself in Charles’s hand, the myriad sensations that came with the man’s body that pressed and pressed against Danse’s own.

            The heat that rose from between and around them seemed to bind them together in their sweeping exploration, and so it was Danse’s hands that found themselves wanderers of the flesh, dried and flaky callouses scratched so lightly along the moving body to remind Charles what truly was rough and ragged in the world of tomorrow. 

            But it was with Charles’s ever escalating speed that had Danse found that the fire within his loins would see fit to consume him, like boiling water that spread through his veins. Charles minded not the sounds Danse had made, the licentious moans that bubbled past his throat and found an evanescence neither were expecting. It was with such things cut short that Danse trembled, like he were stricken from behind. Color knew his face nearly too well as Charles felt then the waters that overflowed and ran down his hand. Danse saw his vision behind the lens of a fever that blurred and brightened, as Charles continued to let him boil over while tending to his own kindling. When Danse could next see properly, Charles was the one whose face had strained against himself, and saw flushed his rosy cheeks. Danse then felt then how he trembled and tensed against what finally was freed, a sprinkling of the aftermath that landed upon his lower abdomen. Danse truly cherished the way a deep groan grazed past his ears, the rasp that nearly broke as it crossed from within to without. 

            It was after that which Danse knew well the full weight of the man above him as he crumpled to the ground. The ground rushed to meet his back and Charlie’s lips to his, another fleeting moment stolen where truly Danse could abandon the concept of distance and know only touch. His next words were sultry and danced along his tongue in such a way he never imagined, “Ad Victoriam…” Came the deep satisfaction that had crept into him. 

            Such words elicited a bark of a laugh, a sharp and hearty sound surely thought drained of him with his endeavor. “I don’t think I could have ever expected that…” He said, as he let his lips brush across Danse’s jawline. “I like this Danse.” He muttered into his skin, “Keep that little wild streak. That right there was cute.” 

            The two would find rest wreathed in the heat of each other, the reprieve both had needed but rarely sought. Perhaps such things were indeed enough to dry the rain. It was a sun that parted the clouds and left the space to breathe fully, and that was enough for the nonce.


End file.
